


Now Let’s Play a Little Game

by INMH



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Pre-Canon, Romance, Seduction, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:59:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3485762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In retrospect, perhaps he should have been clearer on who could and could not be seduced to complete this task. </p><p>EDIT 2017: I've changed Merlin's name, since the Golden Circle novelization actually reveals it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now Let’s Play a Little Game

**Author's Note:**

> Filling for a prompt on [dressing-room3](http://dressing-room3.livejournal.com) (The Kingsman kink meme).
> 
> Also: This now has a [Chinese translation](http://www.movietvslash.com/thread-166491-1-1.html), courtesy of xiaojinms! Warning: The forum requires registration before accessing content.

“Boring as almighty Hell, wouldn’t you say?”  
  
The smile in Harry’s heart never quite got to his lips.  
  
“Giving up already, Hamish? That’s unfortunate.”  
  
Hamish stretched his arms behind his back, rolling his shoulders. Harry followed the motion with his eyes; for a man whose interests seemed to gravitate closer to computers and technology than sports, he was very well built. “Never said I was giving up, did I? Just stating a fact: This party isn’t especially stimulating.”  
  
“No, no it isn’t.”  
  
There was mingling and music and food and men and women and, thank God, copious amounts of alcohol. But other than that, the affair was a dull one. If you’ve seen one elegant soiree in a high-end hotel (and Harry had seen plenty), you’ve seen them all.  
  
The Kingsmen always had a test involving honey-trapping. It alternated with every batch of new candidates- sometimes it was a competition to seduce one person (always fun, because the candidates almost always fell all over each other to get the person’s attention like a bunch of idiots), other times (such as this) the one meant to be seduced was anonymous and the candidates had to pick them out a crowd. Sometimes it was a specific person, other times- like this- it was up to the candidates’ best judgment to find out who would be most useful.  


The person that they were aiming to seduce had information on a particular target that the candidates had been debriefed about prior to the party. It was a complete set-up- the Kingsmen were hardly foolish enough to involve candidates in official business- but it would be trying enough for the potential recruits. Each proctor present at the party had a list of potential information that the candidates could learn about the target- those who learned the most, or the most sensitive information, would receive the highest marks.  
  
It was always an absolute treat to watch. Harry had already come close to laughing at a couple of the candidates and their clumsy, clichéd attempts at seduction.  
  
Whether or not Hamish had attempted yet was unclear; the young man was too smart to be direct, but Harry had yet to see if he knew a thing or two about getting into someone’s pants.   
  
“Good God, look at Arnold- is he drunk?”  
  
Harry glanced over at the candidate in question and nearly chuckled. “Oh, almost certainly. And it seems as though the young lady he’s speaking to has figured that out.” Indeed, the lovely red-head in question had a false smile plastered on, and looked as though she were waiting for the best moment to politely excuse herself.  
  
Hamish smirked, and leaned in closer as he lowered his voice. “Nervous, I expect. He’s the type that talks big about his conquests in the barracks, but I saw him go white as a ghost when you told us what we’d be doing tonight.”  
  
Now Harry did chuckle a bit into his glass of brandy. Arthur told him that one of the privileges of being one of the proctors for the Kingsman recruits was watching them dance and squirm, and in some respects, it was every bit as amusing as the older man had promised. “If he’s capable of effectively honey-trapping anyone as drunk as he is, I’ll definitely be impressed.”  
  
Hamish chuckled as well, low and soft, and his arm accidentally nudged Harry’s as he leaned against the wall beside him. He must have been pretty confident in his chances for success if he thought he could waste time gabbing with Harry. All the same, Harry hardly minded the company; if there was any candidate he was rooting for, Hamish was at the top of the list.  
  
“So, how’s your evening been? More riveting than mine, I should hope.”  
  
“Not too much, I’m afraid. Apart from a few near-hilarious missteps by your fellows, it’s been rather quiet.”  
  
“Mm, that’s what I’d thought.”  
  
Harry had been looking out over the room, watching the candidates, but became suddenly aware of Hamish’s gaze on him from the left. A vague possibility occurred to him, but he pushed it away immediately. _Stop projecting_ , he told himself.  
  
They were quiet for a time, observing as the others made their attempts to connect with their targets. Harry could sense Hamish relaxing beside him, the other man being close enough that he could feel the illusion of physical contact. Hamish was the sort of man who could relax utterly and yet still maintain the posture acceptable for a gentleman of their (in his case, potential) occupation.  
  
If Hamish had shown any interest, and if Harry was the sort to mix business with pleasure, he might be inclined to see what Hamish looked like when he was _completely_ relaxed.  
  
“Who would you say’s in the lead right now?”  
  
Harry sighed. “Well, as of yet, the only one of you who’s managed to maintain contact with a target for an extended period of time is Wilhelmina. And either she’s very good at playing her part, or she’s gotten so wrapped up in whatever conversation that she’s having with the young woman she’s picked that she’s forgotten her primary objective.” It was unsurprising. Of the candidates in this batch, Wilhelmina had proven to be the chattiest.  
  
“I see. Any tips for the rest of us awkward souls?”  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. “If we’re being honest, Hamish, ‘awkward’ is not a word I would use to describe you. And I can’t very well give you advice, now can I? I’d be giving you an advantage over your competition.”  
  
“What if I’m not planning on using that information for the test?”  
  
“I don’t how else that sort of information would-”  
  
And then he felt Hamish’s fingers sliding around his wrist.  
  
When his eyes came up to meet the other man’s, there was a look there that he had seen before, the kind that usually preceded a rather satisfying night.  
  
“Well?” Hamish said, quietly, leaning closer.  
  
Harry took a moment to compute this new information, wondering if he was projecting- or, perhaps, hallucinating. But no, no- it seemed as though he was interpreting things correctly. Hamish was interested.  
  
This is a bad idea.  
  
“Where did this come from?”  
  
This is a **very** bad idea.  
  
 Hamish shrugged. “What can I say? I like a man in a nice suit.”  
  
Do not do this.  
  
“Rather convenient that you’re about to join an organization full of them.” Damn it. Not, perhaps, the wisest word choice- he was supposed to be impartial, which made this very tempting offer even more unwise to accept.  
  
Arthur will be furious.  
  
Hamish smiled. “Yes, but none of them pull it off quite as well as you.”  
  
Oh Lord, **don’t**.  
  
But there were other proctors, and really, most of the tests followed a strict pass or fail guideline; the entrance exam process is deliberately designed to eradicate as much bias as possible: You pull the chute and avoid the radar, or you don’t; you shoot the dog, or you don’t; you rat out the Kingsmen, or you don’t. The honey-trap test, along with the flooded-room test, were two of only a few tests that had gradients of success. This wouldn’t, technically, be Harry giving Hamish a boost, because he won’t be making the final decision about whether or not Hamish becomes a Kingsman or not.  
  
At least that’s what Harry told himself, and what he planned on telling Arthur later if he got raked over the coals for it.  
  
He wondered if maybe he should be more alarmed at Hamish’s ability to make him ignore his better sense.  
  
“Don’t you have something you’re supposed to be doing right now?” He murmured, the words trapped in the ever-decreasing space between them.  
  
Hamish’s smile twisted into a smirk. “The night’s young, Galahad. I’ve time yet.”   
  
Don’t do it.  
  
“And where do you suppose we’d do this? In front of everyone, like animals?” Harry was teasing, joking, but Hamish’s smirk was a clever one as he fished a key- one that Harry recognized as a room key belonging to this very hotel- out of his pocket.  
  
He clucked his tongue. “Galahad, I thought you had more faith in me than that.”  
  
Don’t.  
  
He shouldn’t. He really and truly shouldn’t.  
  
But then Hamish leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “Come on, Galahad. Show me how a gentleman has fun.”  
**_  
_** Stop.  
   
[---]  
   
“Go, go, _go_ \- please.”  
  
Hamish snickered at the tacked-on politeness, and then swallowed Harry’s cock.  
  
It was a horrible idea, really. At any moment one of the other proctors could come looking. Or they might deduce, before searching, that Harry was currently _in flagrante delicto_ with one of the candidates. And thought it would not do for someone to walk in on them, it would be even worse for them to do so whilst Hamish was in the process of unwinding Harry’s gentlemanly composure.  
  
It didn’t help that it had been a while, didn’t help that Hamish was especially talented with his tongue to the point where Harry’s fingers were digging mercilessly into the other man’s shoulders, didn’t help that Hamish was terribly attractive and that Harry had, in his quiet moments, perhaps wondered what he would look like in _precisely_ these circumstances-  
  
“ _Christ,_ ” Harry hissed, head thumping back against the wall. He felt Hamish chuckle around him, and _that_ bit of stimulation was enough to send his eyes rolling back into his head.  
  
And Hamish, he was _good_. He was _really_ good. Either he had had copious amounts of practice with other partners, or he was truly a natural at oral sex. Harry wasn’t sure which he preferred, being at the moment torn between jealousy and further arousal at the idea of Hamish’s mouth around someone else’s cock.  
  
“Hamish,” Harry warned, eyes falling shut and his grip on the other man’s shoulders tightening considerably, “I am… You might- You should-”  
  
Just like that, Hamish’s mouth was gone. Harry didn’t have time to be disappointed, as the aforementioned mouth suddenly reappeared much further north of its previous location. Hamish was not someone Harry would have pegged as a passionate fellow- he was too calm, composed, business-like (though he considered that maybe he wasn’t one to be making judgments in that area). But the way Hamish kissed him, pressed against him, it was relentless and ruthless and Harry just _shuddered_ under the attention.  
  
“I’m going to ride you,” Hamish growled into his ear. “I am going to ride you so _bloody_ hard.” He seemed surprised when Harry’s hand was suddenly on his chest, pushing him back enough that Harry could slide out from between him and the wall.  
  
Harry paced over towards the bed, sliding his tie off as he did. “You said you wanted to learn how a gentleman has fun,” He said, in response to the questioning look thrown his way. “And a gentleman does not assert, he _requests_.” He sat down on the bed and leaned back onto his elbows. “So, _ask_ me.”  
  
For a moment he wondered if maybe he had teased a little too much, because the look on Hamish’s face implied that his patience had ran to its limit, and that he was about to pounce- literally. But then his posture relaxed (a bit) and his expression became a little less intense (though no less hungry), and Hamish nodded, slinking over to the bed much in the same way Harry had. Harry felt a thrill that he had gone far too long without feeling, and it only grew as Hamish continued to speak.  
  
“All right then.” Hamish stopped right before him, their knees almost touching. “May I…” He leaned down, planting both hands on either side of Harry’s chest, “ _Ride_ you,” He moved to straddle Harry’s hips, “Until you can’t walk properly?” The last bit was punctuated by Hamish leaning in to whisper into Harry’s ear again. “I’d really like that.”  
  
Harry smiled (shivered) and laid back onto the bed, bringing his hands up to rest on Hamish’s hips. “Hm.”  
  
Hamish frowned. “Well?”  
  
“I think you’re forgetting something.”  
  
“If I’m meant to take you to dinner first, you might have mentioned that before we got to the room, Galahad.”  
  
Harry quickly bit his lip, tried to keep a perfectly straight face. “Think on it for a moment, Hamish. You’re asking my permission, so…” His left hand slid away from Hamish’s hips and down to his thigh. Hamish swallowed, thinking, trying to focus.  
  
“I…” A look of realization came over his face- quickly followed by one that Harry would describe as Not Amused. “ _Please_.”  
  
“Certainly, Hamish. Now take your bloody pants off.”  
  
Hamish rolled his eyes as he straightened up. “ _Finally_. I was starting to think you were playing with me.”  
  
Harry clucked his tongue. “A gentleman-”  
  
“-is always patient, always holds doors open for little old ladies, and never fails to iron his ties, yes, yes, I know,” Hamish supplied as he shucked his pants and underwear off, “But we’re not saints, Galahad, and patience runs out. If there’s any place to relax the rules of gentlemanly conduct, I would argue that the bedroom’s the best place for it.”  
  
“Others would argue that the bedroom is the place where gentlemanly conduct should be practiced the most,” Harry said, sleekly, as he pushed his own pants further down. “Speaking of such, you do have a-?”  
  
Hamish pointedly held up a condom. All manners of birth control and safety precautions had been made available to the candidates before this particular exercise; less so out of necessity (each candidate and potential target in the room had been screened for illness of any kind beforehand) and more so out of a desire for the candidates to pick up the habit of being prepared for such occasions.  
  
“Would you like me to put it on you myself, or would you like to do it?” Hamish’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Wouldn’t want to presume, after all.”  
  
Harry beckoned him forward with a finger. “You had better become accustomed to the requirements of a gentleman, Hamish, because I won’t be the only one who comments on your-” His breath hitched as Hamish slid the condom over him, and for a man that had been so irritated at Harry’s delaying, he seemed to be going about this particular act awfully slow.  
  
“Do you need me to-?”  
  
“No,” Hamish said, moving to straddle Harry’s waist again.  
  
“Are you certain that-?”  
  
“Yes.” He lined himself over Harry’s cock, hands bracing themselves on Harry’s shoulders.  
  
“It will hurt-”  
  
“I’m aware, Galahad, it’s not my first time. I’ll be fine.”  
  
Before Harry could caution him further, Hamish was in the process of sliding down onto him- slowly, and perhaps with some pain, though not as much as Harry had been expecting to see given the circumstances. Either Hamish was hiding his discomfort, or he was very accustomed to this sort of… Intrusion.  
  
Interesting. Very, very interesting. It merited further exploration. Now. Now, first and foremost, and later. Definitely later. Absolutely later, if Hamish agreed and oh _God_ when had he started to move-?  
  
And really, that was the point at which any hope of retaining that gentlemanly composure went completely out the window, right along with any sort of restraint whatsoever. Harry returned his hands to grasp Hamish’s hips, finding his ability to breathe hampered slightly by the jerking of the mattress beneath them as Hamish increased his speed.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry gasped, and Hamish made a noise that sounded something like a laugh.  
  
“Th-that face,” He said, breathless, “looks even better from above.” Suddenly he groaned, and his pace stuttered and stopped. He was panting, and Harry could see his arms shaking as he leaned forward. “Shit.”  
  
“Need assistance?” Harry asked, tightening his grip expectantly.  
  
“I might,” Hamish huffed. “I- _uff_ -”  
  
As he’d started to speak, Harry obligingly rolled them over. Upon adjusting his footing (and angle), he looked to a somewhat dazed Hamish for confirmation. “Continue?”  
  
“Yeah, right, go ahead.”

And so Harry proceeded; and really, Hamish was spot-on in suggesting that the view was better from above, because the look on the other man’s face when he climaxed could not have been so exquisitely visible to Harry if he’d been lying back on the bed when it came. It took him a minute or two longer to finish, and perhaps his (relative) lack of experience had something to do with it, but Harry was fairly certain that this was- impolitely put, perhaps, but true- the best fucking lay he’d ever had.

It took some effort not to collapse on top of Hamish, instead doing so to the side, and for a moment or two they lay together, recovering.

“Thanks,” Hamish mumbled, voice muffled by the sheets.

“‘A gentleman is always happy to serve, whether it's opening the door, picking up the bill, or merely calling a cab the next morning.’” Harry quipped, still somewhat out of breath.

 Hamish snorted. “That, or fucking you into next week.”

“That too.”

There was silence for a time, punctuated only by the sound of Hamish reaching up and dragging a couple of pillows down from the head of the bed for them. It occurred to Harry that they shouldn’t linger, that someone _would_ come looking eventually (he cast a nervous glance at his watch, wondering how close it was to the end of the party) and that they should probably start getting dressed, not comfortable.

Hamish laughed raggedly, cutting into Harry’s worried inner monologue. “So I’ve done it, haven’t I?”

Harry blinked. “Done what?”

“The task, yeah?”

For one fleeting moment, Harry wondered if- no, that wasn’t what Hamish was getting at, couldn’t be. So it was Harry’s turn to snort. “Pardon? You seduced someone before you took me to bed? You work quickly. And discreetly.”

“No,” Hamish said, propping himself up on his right arm, “The task was to seduce the person in the room we believed to be most likely to have important information on our target. That would be you, wouldn’t it? One of the leading Kingsman agents, the one who set up the entire test to begin with?”

Though his initial inkling had been confirmed, Harry raised his eyebrows at the idea.

“You haven’t gotten any information from me, Hamish. Extracting some sort of information from the target, that is a requirement.”

“Mm…” Hamish hummed, thinking. “Well, that’s true enough.” He drawled. “Except that I’m pretty sure this has a bit of information on the target on it, don’t you?”

And with that, Hamish produced a complete checklist of potential information the candidates could have extracted from their targets about _the_ target. The one that, in the interest of compiling the rankings quickly and progressively over the course of the evening rather than quizzing each candidate at the end of the night, each and every proctor stationed in the room downstairs had on their person.

Including Harry.

_Oh **lord**._

“When did you…?”

“Around the time I had my mouth on your cock. You were a bit distracted.”

Harry covered his face with his hands and groaned. He was supposed to be a spy, and a bloody good one at that, and he had just allowed a _candidate_ to steal information off his person during an exam. He had only been with the Kingsmen for three years. They would throw him out for this. And if they didn’t, Arthur would never trust him with any sensitive information again. This was, of course, on top of the fact that he had _slept_ with said candidate as well.

Hamish was damn near giggling into the pillow. “I’ve broken you,” He said. “I’ve absolutely broken you. I’ve never seen you so lacking in composure before. Not even when I was riding you.”

“Oh, shut _up_.” Harry grunted. He resigned himself to the fact that reporting this particular turn of events- as he was required to do- was not going to be pleasant. Indeed, it would be downright embarrassing, and all he could hope for was that he would be able to tell Arthur without anyone else being present.

But then, did this sort of victory count? Harry ran through the rules of this particular test, wondering if he had- and no, no, he had not prohibited the candidates from seducing him. Technically, Hamish had played by the rules.

And Harry couldn’t lie, that Hamish had been clever enough to consider this course of action when none of the other candidates had was a bit of a turn-on.

Hamish seemed to take Harry’s contemplative silence as a bad thing. “You know, so we’re clear, I did plan on seducing you anyways, at some point or another. Wasn’t strictly for the test, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Harry turned to look at him. “No?”

Hamish shook his head, a smile teasing the corner of his lip again. “Not at all. Like I said: I like a man in a suit, and you do make it look good.” He hesitated, but then leaned over for a kiss- one that, after a moment of consideration, Harry returned.

“Hm. Well, we’ll have to continue this at a later date, then. I still need to find a way to explain this to Arthur without losing my job.” Harry forced himself off the bed and began to put on his pants.

Hamish nodded slowly, soberly. “Yeah, right, that’ll be rough. Good luck with that.” He paused. “But then, I guess if they kick you out, there’ll be two spots open, right?”

Given the night’s events, Harry didn’t think he was too out-of-line in grabbing his pillow and smacking Hamish in the head with it.

 

-End

**Author's Note:**

> Damn, I really hope it's not too obvious that it's been a while since I've written explicit sex.


End file.
